Libertas
by DreamsInBlackAndWhite
Summary: When a new criminal organization, Libertas, rears it head, the entire field of play is turned upside down. Alex Rider throws himself on a quest for knowledge of a dead man. Will Alex really be willing to kill, just to get close to Yassen Gregorovich?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series.**

**Okay, yet another attempt to cram another story onto the fandom before I leave for France in four days. Chances are I won't update until I get back three weeks later. Sorry. Just read this and tell me what you think.**

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Julia Rothman sat demurely in the soulless chain coffee house and calmly sipped at her ridiculously overly priced cappuccino. She had at least six bags of expensive, designer shopping which she had acquired that morning lying at her feet. Though she no longer worked she had no financial worries what-so-ever thanks to her huge savings and million euro equipped Swiss Bank Account.

She took another sip of her cappuccino and glanced subtly at the clock behind the counter. Once again she found herself questioning her judgement. Could she really risk this meeting? It had only been four months since her 'death'. If she was spotted now, all the careful work she'd been doing would be for nothing.

Julia pushed back the few hairs that had fallen out of place over her eyes and the nervousness that was twisting a knot in her stomach. Once again the question rolled through her head. Am I being set up? she asked herself.

But Christian had been so nice to her. He was charming and funny and full of confidence. He reminded her of John Rider so much that she'd agreed to meet with him for coffee. If she was still with Scorpia she wouldn't have been worried. But here she had no back up, no surveillance; nothing to protect her if things blew up in her face.

Stop thinking like that! she warned herself. Christian isn't a spy. He's just a normal man who actually likes you, despite all your very noticeable flaws.

Once again she scanned the coffee house. No Christian anywhere. Again her eyes flickered to the clock. It read exactly fourteen minutes past three. So he had ten more seconds before he was officially late.

"Hey gorgeous. What's a girl like you doing all by herself?" a voice asked flippantly. Julia could listen to that voice all day. It was deep and manly but soothing and calming. Can a man have a 'come to bed' voice?

"Waiting for her considerably less attractive acquaintance" she replied lightly. Christian chuckled and slipped into the seat opposite her, giving her one of his charming smiles.

"Acquaintance? Does that mean that what we did last night was impertinent? Inappropriate? Well sorry. I promise, it won't happen again" he teased carefully. Julia felt her cheeks warm. She was blushing! You haven't blushed since your first day of school! Stop it right now! her brain screeched. No. Why should I? her heart shot back.

Her eyes studied Christian's face while he read the menu. He was definitely handsome. He had black hair that stuck up at the front and olive skin, with dark brown eyes that glimmered softly and twinkled with mischief. He was toned and muscled and he was very tall, a head taller than Julia at least. He had well defined cheekbones and a finely etched face that suited him thoroughly.

"Julia, I do believe you are getting younger every single time I see you" Christian said, smiling at her. He tilted his head slightly to the left and watched her carefully, his eyes twinkling.

Julia shrugged and took another sip of her cappuccino. Christian's eyes flickered from the mug back to her face.

"Christian, what do you do for a living?" Julia asked. It was one of the main things that was bothering her about Christian. He changed the subject anytime she asked him that question.

"Why Julia dear, if I told you, I'd have to kill you" he replied with a wink. Julia brushed away her annoyance. She had to trust him a little more. She had to forget her old job and her mistrustful past. Christian was real. And he was perfect for her.

Too perfect. She ignored her instincts and smiled back at him.

"But, since you ask, you must be willing to run the risk. I kill people. For a living" he said, smiling again at her. Julia took another sip of her cappuccino. It was good that he had a sense of humour but he was being rather elusive. Still, best to play along for the time being.

"Really? What type of people?" Julia asked, humouring him.

Christian smiled wolfishly and winked at her again.

"Bad people. People who deserve it. Criminals. Drug dealers. Gang leaders. Triad members. High ranking Mafia. Corrupt politicians. Dictators. It's a varied line of trade. Never a dull day" Christian said, his smile widening.

Julia chuckled. Funny man. He had no idea how ironic it was for him to be telling that to her.

"I'm on a job at the minute" he said, his features straightening. A hint of mischief remained in his eyes. Julia chuckled again and took another sip of her cappuccino. It was good. Rich and tasty and was warming her up nicely.

"Really? And who, pray tell, are you going to kill now?" she asked with a grin.

Christian gripped her hand loosely and pressed it to his lips with a teasing smile. Even after the kiss he still held onto her hand delicately. His long fingers entwined around hers. Julia looked up at his face again.

His eyes darkened. All humour was gone now. His face was totally serious. His lip curled back in contempt and he sneered at Julia. He looked different. Contorted with hatred. Rage. A poisonous thirst for revenge.

"You" he whispered hoarsely. The bullet fired silently. The gun made no noise but it bucked slightly in Christian's concealed left hand. Julia's eyes widened in pain. Her eyes roamed his face, unable to find the energy to fill herself with rage. Unable to scream for help. Unable to slap him across the face.

"Christian?" she said, her voice hollow and broken. Christian's smile returned and he winked at her once more.

"No. Franz" he replied.

With that he got back to his feet and sauntered from the cafe. Julia watched him go. The wound was taxing on her. The whole world seemed to sway. She couldn't cry out in pain. She blinked sluggishly and saw his back disappear into the crowd. Dimly she was aware that she'd been foolish to trust him.

A tragic, tragic loss she assured herself. And as she slumped forward and her head hit the table hard, all she could think of was the look on Alex Rider's face when she'd showed him the tape of his father's 'death'. Total destruction. Just how she'd felt when she learned of John Rider's treachery.

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Alan Blunt massaged his temples wearily. He was tired. He was cranky. He was looking forward to going home. He'd already allowed his secretary to leave early. He was beginning to regret dutifully waiting for the day to officially end.

He got to his feet and was just about to leave, regardless of the time, when his office phone rang shrilly.

He picked it up instinctively. "Yes?" he growled. He'd been in a foul mood all day. He'd lost two young agents to a pipe bomb explosion and he was currently conducting the screening of the new intake of recruits. He had to check every single detail about them. It was exhausting.

"Mr. Blunt, there've been seven rather high profile deaths in the past hour. Synchronised. Took place all over the world" came the voice of his deputy, Tulip Jones.

Mr. Blunt bit back the urge to swear loudly. He was feeling uncharacteristically at odds with his profession. Usually he loved his job more than anything else on the planet.

"Who?" Blunt asked.

He pushed all thoughts of leaving early out of his mind. This was going to be a rather large assignment, he could tell that already. He would need his wits about him to deal with the situation.

"The Scorpia executive board. Every single one of them. Kurst, Rothman, Kroll, Mikato. Each and every one of them. Even the ones we were trying to hunt down" Mrs. Jones replied.

Blunt paused. It was no news to him that Rothman had been alive. He'd suspected it the past few months. But that she was dead was the news. And the rest of the Scorpia board. MI6 had been working with the CIA in an effort to pin down the Scorpia board for the last two years with no progress. He hadn't even been able to uncover the locations of the board members.

The incoming call light flashed and Blunt frowned. No doubt the Prime Minister looking for somebody to kick for his amusement. Alan Blunt was aware that the Prime Minister thought MI6 cost too much for what it gave.

"Could you hold that line for a minute Mrs. Jones? I have to take another call" Blunt asked.

He heard a noise of affirmation and he pushed onto the second line.

"Alan Blunt" he introduced himself politely.

"I know. Alan, I'd like you to sit down" a silky voice said down the line.

Alan bit back a gasp. He was being watched. And he had a feeling this was a call to take responsibility for the killings. His brain started whirling quickly, dismantling the situation and examining it piece by piece.

He took a seat and waited for the voice to continue.

"As I'm sure you've already guessed I'm calling you to 'fess up. Why don't you get a pen and a sheet of paper? Be ready to take this down" the voice said with an almost mocking undercurrent.

Alan picked up the expensive fountain pen his wife had bought him for Christmas and got ready to write.

"The remaining members of the Scorpia Board were put down for one reason. They were poison. They were scum. And now they are dead. Your people are frankly useless at ferreting out injustice. And some of us are fed up with your government's lacklustre performance. We are purging the world of evil as we speak. We are now waging a war against atrocities and I am giving you a one time only offer. Stay out of our way and we will overlook some of your less than, shall we say, humane projects".

Alan frowned. His wrist was starting to ache.

"You mean you're vigilantes" he volunteered. He was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Call us what you will. But remember that on our first operation we managed to get rid of seven of the worst people on this planet. What have you done is the last twenty four hours? I've made this planet the tiniest bit safer".

"You've just committed murder. And we will find you. And catch you. And then we'll imprison you. And the world will forget your crusade against the bogeymen of the planet" Alan retorted.

"The world doesn't need to know about us. In fact, we'd be happier to stay in the background. But we understand that that is not a realistic desire. Murder is a word too often thrown around these days. What we did was eradicate seven people who've committed more crimes than there are names for. And as for catching us, you won't. Don't worry yourself about things like that. And if you make a single attempt to blackmail us or protect the vermin we intend to exterminate, you'll find that word travels fast around London. Word that could destroy you".

Alan Blunt scowled. He didn't like this one bit. He'd have the call traced as soon as he finished.

"Two words in fact. Alex Rider. I can see the headlines now. 'Government manipulate and blackmail teenager into life threatening situations'".

The voice chuckled dryly and Alan clenched his teeth. He really didn't like this.

"You too will find a bullet. For what you've done to Alex Rider. For what you've done to innocent bystanders. But your bullet will be later. We have more pressing people to deal with".

Blunt sucked in a breath.

"Why are you calling me? What is the point of this conversation?" he asked.

"The following statement. Be sure to get it on paper. We are Libertas, an organization committed to bringing justice to the world. We intend to wipe out every single major criminal who has ever committed a crime against humanity. Drug dealers. Drug smugglers. Corrupt politicians. Mafia members. Murderers. Gang leaders. Snakeheads. We are going to rid the world of the scum that fuel petty crime. Anyone who opposes us will suffer the same fate. We are going to get rid of the foulest excuses for humans on the planet. We will get rid of the dictators who have enslaved their own people. The men who sexually exploit children. The filth who smuggle humans from country to country. They will all die. We have no sympathy for you. You have been in a position to change things and you have done nothing. Neither have any of your international counterparts. You are as much to blame for allowing these monsters to flourish and grow. We are **Libertas**, we are justice and we are going to succeed".

Alan Blunt listened as the dialling tone buzzed loudly in his ear. Terrific. Just what he needed. More idiots on a crusade for justice.

He was beginning to regret letting his secretary leave.

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**It wasn't the longest or best chapter ever written, I know. But the next chapter will be much better.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. But I own all the characters mentioned in the chapter. This is a work of FanFiction from which no profit is gained.**

"We had a one hundred percent success. Perfection. Our next big thing is keeping fear and panic on our side. So I put forward the motion that we move the fifty first back to El Alamein and bring in the seventy eighth to cover Liverpool Street from that flat for sale".

Dieter Spiegel jotted the words down swiftly and nodded tightly to himself. He scratched behind his ear rapidly, ready for the next words to take down. Franz Steiner sat beside him, head resting on hand, elbow resting on the arm of his chair. He let out a loud sigh and glanced up at the web camera that was currently streaming to the rest of the Libertas board.

"No. That is much too risky. Now that we have lit a fire under Alan Blunt, he will be keeping a very close eye on things. Yes, the man is something of a fool. But he does know how to do his job. I must go now, I am already late for a meeting. Until next time gentlemen, I bid you farewell" Franz said, labouring slightly.

Dieter allowed himself an inward smile. His pupil's English was progressing rather quickly, but cracks were still apparent. Franz spoke much too formally for a young man. Dieter jotted down Franz's words and struck a line under his notes. His pen scratching across his paper was the only sound as Franz switched off the webcam carefully.

"Dieter", Franz began, flopping back in his chair, his head tilted backwards, eyes closed, "Why am I always surrounded by idiots?"

Dieter smiled wryly and placed his notebook gently on the desk in front of him.

"You know what they about birds of a feather" he said, glancing over at the German lounging in the chair beside him.

"No. I do not, actually. My English is still at an unacceptable level. I wish to conduct lessons twice daily from here on in. Are you agreeable to this, Dieter?" Franz asked, massaging his temples, his eyes still shut tightly. Dieter shifted in his seat, biting the sides of his nails before answering.

"Yes. Of course, Franz. Now, about your flight. I've booked it for half six tomorrow morning. Your flight number is-"

"Dieter, why are you still talking? Please, I am asking you as nice as possible, shut your mouth for five minutes straight" Franz said, his voice level, almost relaxed. Dieter glanced over at his employer, a slightly worried look in his eyes. Franz was often blunt but never rude. Not unless something was bothering him a lot.

"Nicely" Dieter replied, folding his arms in his lap.

"What?" Franz asked, one eye cracking open lazily to glance over at the younger man.

"You said 'as nice as possible'. You meant 'as nicely as possible'. You see, in English grammar-"

"My remark has shot entirely over your head, has it not? Now, Dieter, could you please get that girl, Maria, on the phone? Could you tell her I will not be able to make dinner tonight?" Franz requested, his head lolling back in his chair.

"May I ask why?" Dieter responded, glancing over at Franz.

"Her laugh is like the sound of a car crashing into a rhinoceros. I cannot deal with her tonight. Tell her I have caught a gastric bug. Or sprained my wrist. Anything. Just get me out of that dinner" Franz ordered, his tone sharp, daring Dieter to ask anymore questions.

Dieter got to his feet and took one last look at his employer before striding from the room, notes under one arm. He had never really understood why he had been chosen to assist and teach Franz Steiner. Perhaps it was because they were both German. Whatever the reason, Dieter knew he was Franz's sixth assistant in a month. He must have been doing something right to hold onto the job for more than two days.

Dieter slowed his steps when he reached the marble hall of Franz's mansion. He felt a little uncomfortable in the grand old house. He had a feeling Franz did as well. Pictures of Franz as a child with his parents had littered the place. Then, on the very day they arrived, Franz took all the pictures up to his room and Dieter hadn't seen any since.

Dieter liked working for Franz. With Franz. He wasn't sure where Franz stood on the boss-assistant relationship. But, overall, Franz was easy to work alongside. Yes, he could be demanding. He could be ridiculously childish, very disrespectful of his elders and very short tempered, amongst other things. But he paid well and had never treated Dieter like a fool.

Dieter sighed and shook his head, more to rid himself of his thoughts than anything else. He didn't know why he felt the need to make his involvement with Libertas personal. They wired a rather cheerful amount of money into his account every month. In return he did his work dutifully and didn't ask questions. If that meant teaching someone English, it meant teaching someone English.

Dieter fished the plain white phone of its receiver and held it to his ear with his hsoulder. He fumbled about with Franz's book of phone numbers before finally finding the slip of paper he had been looking for.

He promptly dialled it and was nearly deafened by the squawk of laughter that shot out of the phone at his ear. Perhaps Franz was right about Maria. In fact, Franz was definitely right about Maria.

"Franz, is that you? Oh I can't wait for dinner tonight! I wish you'd tell me where we're going.."

"Miss Giles, this is Dieter Spiegel. I'm afraid Franz has come down with an awful bug. One of those gastric things. He told me to tell you he's very sorry. Perhaps another time?" Dieter interrupted.

Before Maria could reply, Dieter had already hung up.

Dieter wandered back up to the study where Franz appeared to be dozing in his chair. The German looked almost happy when he slept. Relaxed. His hands were still half cocked, fists formed. Dieter shook his head slightly again, a smile appearing on his face. Franz would fall asleep at the oddest of hours. Not exactly a stereotypical villain.

Dieter hadn't been expecting Franz. He had known from the beginning that Libertas were going to murder people. Or cleanse the world, as they called it. Dieter hadn't known what to expect, really. But Franz most definately wasn't it. He wouldn't take a false identity. He insisted on giving large donations to numerous charities. He was a ridiculously bad poker player and was allergic to cats.

The very sight of the offensive animal caused Franz to break out into bouts of unstoppable sneezing. Dieter found that rather amusing, especially as he was the proud ownere of a feline who had been his companion for twelve years. Franz had consented to the animal's presence only because he knew that Dieter would be a good assistant and that without the pet, Dieter wouldn't stay. The only condition was that Nimble was confined to Dieter's quarters throughout the day.

Dieter gaze rested on his employer and another sigh sidled from his mouth. Franz was a lot younger looking than his twenty five years. Dieter grinned as the older German shifted in his sleep, grunting softly. Dieter had to admit, he had really landed on his feet with his move to Libertas.

Franz's eyes snapped open and he glanced around, appearing bewildered at first. When he realised who it was standing over him he smiled sleepily, twisting his head. Dieter sat back down in his own chair.

"Dieter, you know so much about me. And all of our operations. You'll be moving to Reid's department this weekend. You understand, of course, that I cannot work with you for too long? Must rotate assistants. And I am sure the next one will not go rummaging through my study at two in the morning..." Franz said sleepily.

Dieter fidgeted guiltily. So Franz knew. Dieter was a money maker, first and foremost. And Wallace, another member of the board of Libertas, had paid him a ridiculously large sum of money to pass on information about Franz's recruitment program.

"Yes. About that. I wanted to know if you had borrowed my fountain pen. A gift from my father four years ago. Very important to me. You haven't seen it, have you?" Dieter asked, hoping the flimsy excuse would be enough to convince Franz.

The older German sighed loudly and sat up, frowning at Dieter, his expression furious.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME! DO NOT DARE! YOU SOLD INFORMATION TO WALLACE! IT WAS A TEST AND YOU FAILED, JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHER ASSISTANTS! WALLACE WAS WORKING FOR ME, YOU IDIOT! I wanted you to pass so much. I liked you. But now, I have to kill you" Franz said, shaking his head almost sorrowfully.

A bullet snapped silently through the arm of the chair, biting into Dieter's heart. He was dead before he hit the floor. Franz got up disdainfully and stepped over the body. He'd have someone clean it up tomorrow.

That ridiculous cat appeared in the doorway, eyes glinting curiously at Franz. Stupid cat. Franz fired again and watched the cat collapse on the floor, its tail still twitching. With the smoke from the gun curling up through the air, Franz yawned before glancing at his watch. He had time for a nap.

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**There. At last, another update. I hope you enjoyed. I have no idea when my other fics will be updated but if all goes well it ought to be soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. **

**Okay. I have a confession. This is what happens when I set myself a deadline. A rushed chapter that's really, really short. But don't worry. It's actually pretty important to the story. You'll see why next chapter.**

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_Dear Yassen._

_God. I feel really, really stupid writing to you, especially seeing as you're dead. In fact, I think this is really stupid. But my stupid counsellor says I have to write a stupid letter to you to address my 'issues with reality and fiction'. Whatever that means. I think she's the one who's crazy, actually. _

_She says your death had a 'prolific impact on my being' because I had 'a fixated attachment to the presence of Yassen Gregorovich as a remnant of your father's life'. Her words, not mine. I didn't even want to see her after Snakehead but MI6 made me. They can be pretty persuasive when they need it. I'm not sure why I'm actually doing this. She says it's to 'reconcile the difficulties you have with accepting the fact that your father left very little trace of himself behind after his passing' and that 'Yassen Gregorovich shared the kind of relationship with your father that you subconsciously accepts as your own'._

_Does that make much sense to you? That would make one of us. It's weird. Until you died, I didn't realise how much it would do to me. Look at me now. You called me a child, but I'm not anymore. I've seen things you've probably seen. I guess that makes us even._

_But are we even, really? I'm just the tiniest bit jealous of you, I admit it. You knew my dad and you never even told me anything about him before it happened. Did you know Ash? He was in Scorpia too. I don't think you'd have liked him because he kind of blew up my parents on a plane. You wouldn't have done that, just like you wouldn't kill a child while looking at them._

_That's right. Your secret is out Yassen. You can't kill a child if you're looking at them. Blow them up while you're on a private jet thousands of miles away? Sure, no problem. But stab them, shoot them, anything up close and you can't do it. I wonder why. _

_Maybe you're crazy too. It would explain a few things. I'm back in school again, in case you want to know. Jack is still on edge about the year. I turned fifteen yesterday and had a small party. Just a few mates and Jack. We had a cake too. _

_So. Now. To address my 'issues'. I wish you were here because, strange as it sounds, I miss you. Even if you did kill my uncle (You're not forgiven for that, by the way. I still hate you) I wish I could talk to you. Just one day of proper talk about my mum and dad. Did you know her? I saw her once, when I was shot. It was kind of nice in a pathetic way. Did you know your mum? I guess you must have._

_What was she like? Did she tuck you in and hug you goodnight? Make your tea every night? I suppose she must have because that's what mums do. It's funny, to think someone tucked you in when you were a little kid. Hilarious, actually. _

_You know what? This letter is stupid. So that's it. I'm done. You're dead, I'm alive. That's that. So why can't I stop thinking about how much I need to talk to you?_

_I think that's enough rambling for now. So I hope you write back soon (Just my little joke)._

_Alex Rider. _

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**Merry Christmas**


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